Letting Off Steam
by mistresofmordor
Summary: Bruce has a problem- because of the "accident" he can't just let his emotions run wild. His Solution? Bloodletting. TRIGGERS: Self Harm, Self Emotional Abuse Please, if you don't like, don't read. There is LOTS of slaphappy Tony, but it is a dark story so far. PLEASE review, It pleases my muse and maked me want to write more.
1. Pressure Valve

A deep breath shuddered through his lungs as he stared at his own reflection, eyes dipping down the planes of his own chest, along the trails of hair curling to his pubis and lower- lean hips and muscled thighs. His was a body that spoke of power, but when he glanced up to meet his own gaze he couldn't help but recoil. His eyes were shining a poisonous green, and he took another deep breath and closed his eyes. The fingers of his left hand were splayed wide against the rich dark gray granite of the vanity, which was still cool to the touch. His right hand gripped the only piece of medical equipment that hadn't left his possession since the 'accident' – a scalpel. The chill of the textured metal was like a balm for his racing heart, and as his pulse slowed down he opened his eyes to look at the thin pale lines that traced along the upper half of his thighs.

_Never too deep, never too often. _His mind repeated it every time he did this, like it was a religious mantra. _They can't know. No one can know_.One glance over at the door, then to the touch panel next to it, the word LOCKED illuminated in bright red. He stepped to the shower slowly and ran the pads of his left index and middle fingers up the gauges for water pressure and temperature, waiting for the hiss of hot water on stone before opening the glass door, scalpel still in hand.

He stepped under the spray of almost scalding water, allowing it to soothe his aching back, stiff from being hunched over a computer for 36 hours straight. His fingers loosened and rolled the small blade around lightly until they lined up perfectly against the ergonomic grips. Leaning his head back against the now warm wall, he pressed the flat of the blade lightly against the skin of his thigh, breathing deeply as his pulse slowed further, all anxiety fading away in the presence of routine. With a twitch of his wrist, the blade slit through the scar tissue and blood welled, beading along the path that he had made. He dropped his gaze to watch in fascination as the beads grew and then spilled, trailing scarlet paths down his leg as gravity took over.

He let out a shuddering breath and slipped back under the water, rinsing the remainder of the blood away once it had stopped welling freely, laying the scalpel on one of the shelved designed to hold extra soap. He quickly lathered and conditioned his hair, rubbed himself down with soap, ignoring the sting of it in the new wound, grabbed a towel. There was a small gauze pad and medical tape on the shelf next to the towels, and he methodically bandaged himself, not wanting to accidentally stain anything.

The towel went around his waist, and he pressed against the touch pad next to the door to open it, breathing in the clean scent of sandalwood that filled his personal room at the tower. _I need to get away from here eventually_ he thought, a rueful smile playing across his features. He went to the dresser that had about a hundred different pieces of clothing in it, all in his size, none of them his, and pulled on a pair of boxer briefs before settling on a pair of black jogging shorts and a navy tee shirt.

The bed was already turned down and he crawled in, letting the exhaustion of too many hours awake seep into his brain, falling asleep as his head hit the pillow.


	2. Locked Tight

He stirred awake to a crisp mechanical whirr as the blinds opened, the New York skyline as amazing now, a month after the attack, as the first day.

"How long was I asleep?" he asked the empty room, glancing at the rumpled bedding around himself.

"Ten hours, sir," the British AI replied. "It's 6AM. Would you like me to start the kettle for you?"

He shook his head as he sat up, stretching lightly. "No, but thank you Jarvis. Is Tony back?"

"Mister Stark is back in residence, currently in the garage workshop."

A slow nod as he stood and moved back to the dresser, pulling out soft, charcoal slacks and what felt like a silk button down shirt in turquoise. Ridiculously soft leather loafers and he was walking out the door, headed down to the garage.

The edge of the tape was rolling slightly by the time the elevator stopped, but as the door slid open a smile spread across his face. "Tony!" he exclaimed, smile widening as the genius sat up, arc reactor aglow just below the collar of his tank top.

"Hey! Who looks nothing like a big-green-rage-beast-smashing-machine...today? Tonight? Jarvis! Time!"

"Quarter past 6AM sir," the AI replied, almost sounding fond of its creator.

"Aaah, it's coffee time!" The brunette crowed happily, pressing the other man back into the elevator. "So, how boring was it without me? I bet you were all 'Oh noes! These flight panel specs aren't going to make any sense without Tony!'"

Bruce laughed outright and shook his head at the other man. "You were gone for two days. I finished the math on the space ready prototype, all you need to do is look it over... and build another couple of reactors if it works right."

Tony glanced at the other man and smiled, spinning and walking out of the elevator backwards to keep visual contact with his tech cohort. "Seriously? I can actually go and check the reality of the moon landing finally? Because I think its total bull, if I haven't been able to build anything space ready, they want me to believe that they did in the sixties? FAT chance."

Bruce stopped his backward momentum just before he walked into a chair, and more directly, Steve, who barely glanced up from the paper he was reading. "If I didn't know better, I'd say you didn't trust the government, Stark," the blonde said dryly from behind a coffee cup of his own.

"Aneurism. Right now," tony groaned, stumbling dramatically around the kitchen island. "Our favorite American poster boy just hit me with his sarcasm shield, and here I am without my suit."

Bruce jut shook his head, plucking the electric kettle from its bay and filling it with filtered water from the fridge before putting it back and clicking it on. While it was working itself up to a boil, he pulled down a teapot and two mugs, holding one out to Tony, who took it and put it back.

"Today is a day for a special coffee cup," he grinned, pulling open a cabinet above the fridge and pulling out what had to be the largest mug in existence. "120 ounces! I won't leave the lab until my heart explodes!"

Bruce arched an eyebrow at the mug and stared at Tony for a full minute until the kettle started to shriek and he poured the hot water into the teapot, over the first-flush Darjeeling the Tony had ordered for him.

"What?" Tony asked as he filled the ridiculously large cup with the rest of the pot before adding a healthy cup of half and half and a not so healthy dozen sugar cubes. "This covers all the food groups, right? Caffeine, fat, sugar?"

"How do you not weigh three hundred pounds?" Steve gaped at him, looking for all the world like a fish.

A slow grin spread across the billionaires face as Bruce watched on in amusement, pouring the tea into his mug and adding a small touch of honey to take the astringent note out. "Lots and lots of sex. Yep. Sex."

Steve sputtered into his cup, misting coffee over the sports section and turned a shade of red usually reserved for cooked lobster shells. Bruce chuckled lightly as Tony started laughing. "Really, it's the caffeine and working constantly. Relax Cap! Bruce! Lets go do science!"

Tony elbowed the elevator call button, using both hands to hold his travesty of a mug steady as he pattered on. "So you got the atmosphere-less repulsors to work? And the CO2 filter to convert to oxygen?"

Bruce took a deep breath and a small sip of the still steaming tea before responding, watching in amusement as the other man bounced on his toes impatiently. "No," he said slowly, "I got the MATH right for them. You get to double check it, and then see if it would be worthwhile to even make your suit space ready."

A small sound of disappointment rolled out of the goatee'd man's mouth as the elevator came to a stop at the floor where Bruce had been doing most of his research. "Well," Tony began brightly after taking a long pull on his coffee, "Show me what you have for me!"

Bruce chuckled again, and pulled up the first formula that filled the 54 inch screen, and stepped back. "Here, if you can force an additional 7.15% energy output once you hit the mesosphere, you can break through the thermosphere, then all you really have to worry about is asteroids... since maneuverability in a vacuum is still sketchy at best."

"I love it when you talk nerdy to me," Tony laughed, bumping his hip into Bruce's lightly, looking at him funny when the bespectacled man hissed in a breath. "You ok? You didn't get all ragey while I was gone did you?"


	3. Heatlocked

**A/N! First things first, OH MY GOD you guys, I love you. Like, LOVE love. OVERWHELMING support for this story O/O So, without further ado, lets let the shit begin to hit the metaphorical fan! Please don't hate me for it, I don't exactly have a plan... Also, if you were wondering where the idea for this came from, it's the song Cut by Plumb. Listen... and cry. Don't own any of them, or the song. Disclaimers, blahblahblah.**

Bruce's heart rate skipped up to a not so smooth 104 beats per minute even while keeping his external calm. "Not at all," he chuckled slightly, "That would have made the news. I just walked into the corner of one of the tables in the lab."

Tony's eyes narrowed at the other man. "That sounds like a fifties housewife explaining away a bruise. Whats going on, Bruce?"

"Nothing," he replied, a self-depreciating smile spreading across his face. "I'm just a little bit clumsy... so, trajectories?"

His hopeful glance at the other man showed a fierce stare back, before the billionaire shrugged and said, "I'm more interested in the new repulsors. HOW did you get them to..."

Bruce looked from the data on the screen to Tony's face, and when he saw his fellow genius' eyes wide and staring at his crotch, he snapped his fingers once in his face. "Hello? How did I get them to what?"

"Bruce..." Tony began slowly backing away. "Why are you bleeding in my lab? Rage monster? Not a big deal. Poison blood of killing me? Kind of a big deal." The last words were a bit shrill to his ears, but he didn't stop moving slowly away.

The doctor glanced down at his leg and flinched at the bright crimson stain spreading slowly. When he met the other man's eyes, he knew his own were shot through with shards of jade and emerald just by the way that he froze. He began backing away to the wraparound window that gave more than ample natural light. "I'm going to jump if I start to change, Tony," he said slowly, glancing down at a ceramic casting of the newest prototype for the arc reactor.

"Don't you **dare**, Banner. You will go to the damned corner like we talked about and you can try to bust out of the plexiglass enclosure," the billionaire breathed, the reactor in his chest glowing brightly as his pulse further sped up. "That you designed."

Bruce glanced at the other man once and took a deep breath, closed his eyes, and counted to ten in Tagalog just to make himself focus somewhere other than his heart rate. "...siyam...samp..." he finished out loud, opening his eyes and looking up at the still frozen playboy. "Am I still green?" he asked quickly, pulling his glasses off to make entirely sure that there would be no question.

He was promptly startled by Tony laughing maniacally. "The jolly green giant threat is gone, but what the FUCK is going on with the blood thing?"

"I walked into the table really really hard?" he tried, hoping that the other man wouldn't press it.

"Not gonna fly with you BLEEDING. So again I ask: what the fuck is going on?"

Bruce grimaced slightly at his and then sighed, shoulders slumping further. "Can we talk about this later, Tony? As you keep pointing out, I'm bleeding a bit here."

Tony looked speculative for a moment before speaking. "Welp... NO. I can follow you either literally or have Jarvis spy for me. Either way, your choice, but we're not playing games here... well, in the lab we usually are... but I mean... oh damn it, you know what I mean."

Bruce can't help but choke out a laugh at Tony's sputtering, the normally poignant speaker befuddled. "I'd rather not entertain the voyeur end of that, so lead on. You're closer to the door."

"Well played, Banner, well played," Tony drawled, edging to the door and letting it open behind himself before walking backwards towards Bruce's room, keeping the other man in sight the whole time.

**Secondary note: I have no clue as to whether I want any sexy tensions in here at all. Opinions? Or pairings? (I like all the ships 0.0) Third note: soooooo many stories flooding my brain oh gods!**


	4. Under Pressure

**A/N! ZOMG I'm sorry its taken me a while to get this done, I work graveyard and can't write at work ;_; and sometimes my mind stops working on one thing and skips to another and it SUCKS. But, since I love it SO much, Science Boyfriends / Brony elements are going to worm their way in... and then I have future ideas... tehehe 3 Again, FEED MY EGO and review, it makes me dance and giggle and squee and seriously? Makes my day. **

**Warnings: ANGSTYANGST, references to self harm of many varieties, anger, decidedly foul language.**

As the men made their way to the doctor's suite, Bruce couldn't help the bemused smile that occupied his face, like a mask. He keyed in his code to get into his set of rooms, and as the door clicked open Tony forced his way in first.

"Okay," he began, sitting down on one of the chaise lounges dotting the corners of the room. "So what the hell Banner?"

Bruce glanced at his friend and sighed. "I'm really not certain how to explain this..." he trailed off, giving Tony a loaded stare that the other refused to acknowledge.

"You're bleeding, how about you explain THAT first. And all things considered, you're going to need to change so show and tell might work too."

Eyebrow arching up, Bruce just nodded and stripped off his pants, kicking off his shoes into the legs, leaving the shirt to have some semblance of modesty. He stared down at the trail of red that was left running down his thigh and shuddered lightly. "So... do you trust me enough to go clean this before, or no?"

Tony was staring intently at him and shook himself once before replying, "If you leave the room, I'm following you," with a bit of his normal smirk.

Bruce just rolled his eyes at the other man. "Then follow me. You might have to see more than you bargained for, to warn you."

Tony followed on Bruce's heels as the physicist went to the bathroom and glanced up at him in the mirror. Bruce closed his eyes and took a deep breath, trying to calm himself down. When he opened his eyes again, he was much more sedentary. He let his eyes meet Tony's again in the mirror, and slowly he peeled away the last bit of clothing covering his thigh, bandage and all. He watched Tony's eyes drop to the still weeping cut before flying back up to meet his eyes again accusingly.

He turned slowly away from both the mirror and Tony's glare and picked up a washcloth delicately, running it under water to dampen it before passing it over the smears of claret along his leg. His breath hissed as he pressed it to the cut itself and applied pressure. _This one was too deep_ echoed through his mind as the pain effectively wiped his mind. After a few minutes of pressure, he pulled the cloth away and looked down at the now swollen gash, searching for any further traces of the offending blood. Finding none, he turned to face Tony, gesturing to the cabinet next to the billionaire. "Gauze is in there. Would you...?"

Tony sucked in a breath, and jerked the door open hard, causing the contents to rattle sharply, before handing the roll to Bruce and watching him methodically bandage himself.

With a sigh, Bruce tucked the ends of the bandage underneath a wrap and settled back against the counter, thankful for the shirt that was still maintaining his modesty. "So..." he began, unsure of where to start.

"Were those scars, Bruce?" Tony asked, voice shaking with either anger or horror, Bruce couldn't tell. "Scars on top of scars?"

At that, Bruce shrugged slightly, eyes fixing on a point just behind and to the left of Tony's head. "Yeah... Yes. They are."

"When? When the hell did this start?" and it was definitely anger now filling the other man's voice.

Bruce winced at the vehemence in his friend's voice and whispered, "Just after my 'accident.'" His hand gripped the counter next to him tightly. "It wasn't... something I planned on... sharing."

"God DAMN it Bruce!" Tony exclaimed, looking like he wanted to punch the other man as hard as he could. "Sharing? You were walking around with a fucking OPEN WOUND in my lab, and you weren't going to SHARE? Sharing is for soldering guns and computers, not potentially fatal issues!"

Bruce ran his hand through his hair and pinched the bridge of his nose lightly before replying. "Tony, This isn't exactly a serious issue. My blood isn't toxic at all, that was just a story that was put out to spread even more fear of the 'other guy.' Okay? So, in reality, I'm not actually doing anything that could harm anyone."

The philanthropist gaped at him for a solid minute before gathering himself enough to speak a coherent sentence. "Not hurting anyone? Are you even thinking? Even if you're blood isn't deadly, you were still BLEEDING, and, correct me if I'm wrong here, from a self-inflicted cut. I'd call that a pretty DAMN serious issue."

"How is what I do any concern to you?" Bruce asked, baffled by the venom in Tony's words. "This is just what... happens... when everything gets too... much. Everyone needs to blow off steam."

"Yeah," Tony retorted, slightly calmer. "Barton decimates about a hundred arrows, Natasha runs for miles, Steve kills punching bags. Those all sound kind of constructive. CUTTING yourself? Not so much."

Bruce narrowed his eyes at the other man, beginning to get annoyed at him. "What about your drinking, Tony? What about the womanizing? Or your working yourself to exhaustion? None of those sound terribly healthy, let alone constructive."


End file.
